Terror on Tuesday

Sod that, thought Lois, and said nothing. Cowgill turned to go, and Lois looked around for Hazel. A shrill bell rang, signalling the end of the interval, and Lois made her way back to her seat. Where had the girl got to? Just as the curtain rose, a commotion at the end of the row proved to be Hazel making her way across feet, handbags and rolled-up coats, until she reached her seat.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Long queue for the Ladies.”

“Shush!” hissed the man behind them, and the theatre became silent, waiting for the opening of Act Two. The audience, now thoroughly warmed up by laughter and interval drinks, responded vigorously to the continuing high jinks on stage, and Gary’s character drew more laughs than any other.

As the play ended, Lois was slow to get to her feet. “Come on, Mrs M!” said Hazel. “Let’s beat it. Follow me…”

But Lois frowned. “No, just a minute, Hazel,” she said. “Maybe we should go round backstage and have a quick word with Gary? Tell him how much we enjoyed it? That’s what people do, don’t they?”

Hazel stared at her. “Some do,” she said. “D’you really want to? I mean, we could tell him tomorrow, or whenever?”

Lois shook her head. “No, I think we’ll go now. It’d be nice for him. Come on,” she said, decisively now, and led the way. They found the stage door in a dark, narrow passage at the side of the theatre, and knocked.

“Yes?” said a woman’s peremptory voice. No light fell on her face as she stood leaning against the door frame.

“Can we speak to Gary Needham for a minute, please,” said Lois.

“Well,” said the voice, “look who’s here…Gary!” she yelled. “Your adoring public is at the door!”

“Come on, Mrs M,” said Hazel, tugging at her sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”

But Lois was annoyed. She was being patronized, and did not like it. “You can cut that,” she said sharply to the woman, whose voice sounded oddly familiar. Maybe because she’d just seen her on stage. “Just get Gary Needham,” she added, “and be quick about it.”

Then Gary’s figure appeared in silhouette against the light from inside. Lois found herself pushed to one side by Hazel. “It’s me, Gary, and Mrs M is here with me, wanting to congratulate you on your performance,” she said quickly.

“Oh, right,” said Gary uncertainly. “Hang on a minute. Too crowded in here.” He fumbled round the door frame, found a switch, and suddenly a light shone from above the door, illuminating Lois and Hazel. Gary stepped out into the passage. He had gathered his wits now, and said how very nice of Mrs M to come round. He was so sorry he couldn’t invite them in, but there wasn’t room to swing a cat, let alone a glass of champagne! “Like the show, then, Hazel?” he said, finally looking in her direction.

“Yep,” she said. “You were good. Very lively. Must be exciting when it goes well. Get a high from it, do you, Gary?” she added.

Lois wondered at Hazel’s dry, clipped tone, and broke in quickly. “We had a great evening. Never knew we had such talent in New Brooms!” she said, and then, puzzled by the failure of what should have been a jolly five minutes celebrating Gary’s triumph, returned with Hazel to the car.

They drove for five minutes or so in silence. Then Lois said gently, “What’s up, Hazel?”

“Nothing.”

“Right,” said Lois, “if you don’t want to talk about it. But don’t forget I’ve known you since you were a screaming brat. If you’re quiet, it means something’s up.”

The silence persisted for another five minutes. Then Hazel sighed. “Trouble is, Mrs M,” she said, “you don’t know enough, and I know too much.”

In the darkness inside the car, Lois did not turn her head. Good thing I’m driving, she thought, and don’t have to look at her. She might find it easier. “About what, in particular?” said Lois.

“Oh, you know, everything,” said Hazel wearily. “Stuff I hear in the pub, around the place. You and Mum think you had a wild youth, but you don’t know nuthin’. Anyway,” she added, “it’s nothing to do with me, nor you, and we’re best out of it.” She seemed about to say more, but hesitated.

“You might as well tell me,” said Lois. “There’s nobody else. Your mum’s not up to listening, is she? And I can’t see your dad being much of a help.”

“I don’t need any help, Mrs M,” said Hazel emphatically. “And I’ll just say this. Gary Needham’s fine as a cleaner. Can’t be faulted, according to Sheila Stratford. But keep an eye on him, Mrs M. I been askin’ around people who know him, and he’s one to watch.”

Lois drew up outside the Reading house, and saw the front door open. Richard Reading’s belligerent figure emerged. “Hazel?” he yelled. “About time too!”

Hazel turned to Lois. “I won’t ask you in,” she said with a grin, “and thanks for the evening out. It was great.” Then she was out of the car, pushing past her father and gone from Lois’s sight.

“Night, Dick!” Lois called. No sense in antagonizing him more than necessary. She didn’t know about Gary yet, but she did know that Dick Reading was one to watch.

She turned the car round and headed off towards Long Farnden, thinking about Gary and his subdued reaction to seeing them. And that woman who’d opened the door…definitely familiar, and not from the stage. She’d spoken to her before, she was certain. Then it came to her, and the revelation was a shock. She had last heard that voice in a grubby, untidy room on the Churchill Estate in Tresham. It was Joanne Murphy, and Lois could not think of a more unlikely place to meet her again.

? Terror on Tuesday ?

Fifteen

“First thing tomorrow,” Lois said, her back against the old Rayburn, drinking cocoa and warming up, “I shall ring Gary and ask him to come over and see me.” The radiating heat relaxed her as she told Derek about the evening’s surprise appearance of Gary Needham. She left out her brief conversation with Hunter Cowgill, but included the unpleasant exchange with Joanne Murphy.

“What the hell was she doin’ there?” said Derek. “The way you told it, she was a lazy slag who spent most of her time watching telly and smoking.”

“Yeah,” said Lois thoughtfully, “but there’s more, apparently.”

“Something you’re not telling me, Lois,” said Derek. She shook her head, and he took her empty mug and rinsed it under the tap. “Well,” he continued, “just remember what I said. Don’t you get involved in that major business. Could be a lot more there than meets the eye.”

“That’s the trouble,” said Lois, “nothing meets the eye. So far, nothing at all. Haven’t heard a really bad thing said of Major Todd-Nelson. Except from Dick Reading, of course, and you can’t count what he says about anything. The major was a lonely man with a weakness for young women – an’ I mean women, not girls – and a member of an amateur dramatic society. Maybe not a very nice man, but there’s plenty of those. But there’s something, Derek, ferretin’ away under the surface. Like one of them nasty insects that burrow under the skin.”

“So long as it’s not under our skin, I’d advise you to leave it alone,” said Derek. “And now to bed, sweet maid,” he added with rare dramatic inspiration, making Lois laugh.

They went up the wide stairs arm in arm, and just before they settled for sleep, Derek said seriously, “That old bloke probably was up to something rotten,” he said. “I’ve heard some muttering in the Waltonby pub since he was done in. It’ll all come out in good time, ducky, so don’t you get mixed up in it. Let that Cowgill bloke sort it out on his own. That’s what he’s paid for.” He turned over, and Lois yawned. “Mmm,” she said, “Night, Derek. Sleep tight.”

¦

Next morning Lois rang Gary early. “When you’ve finished at the surgery,” she said, “can you drop in here on your way to the pub?” She had assigned this job to Gary, and so far he was more than satisfactory.

The landlord, Geoff Boggis, had told Derek that he’d no fault to find at all. “Fast and efficient, you can tell your Lois,” he’d said. “And he doesn’t gossip. You hear all kinds of things in pubs, but Gary doesn’t want to know. Does his work, has a coffee and a quick chat about nothing in particular, and then goes. That’s how I like ‘em.”